


The Dragons' Courtesan's Keep

by cookie_cookie_cookie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Jimmy Novak (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins (Supernatural), Dean is a Brat, Dragon Castiel (Supernatural), Dragon Jimmy Novak (Supernatural), Firebending & Firebenders, Kid Charlie Bradbury, Multi, Needy Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Other, Portals, Quantum, Sassy Dean Winchester, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_cookie_cookie/pseuds/cookie_cookie_cookie
Summary: A young laboratory technician, Dean Winchester, accidentally opens a portal to another universe and is captured by two of the most feared dragons in all the land.
Relationships: Castiel/Jimmy Novak/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	1. The Holy Grail/Kingdom of Lucifer

**Author's Note:**

> I am doing my research, but I will not be entirely accurate for the purpose of this plot. I want to make as much sense as possible. You want total accuracy? Click out now and go watch a documentary.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

**OCTOBER 24, 1947 -- WUTTEMBERG, GERMANY, D.1**

General Garrett Price hated tardiness. "Making someone wait fifteen minutes for your arrival is one of the most selfish things you can do," he'd always say, "it shows your lack of consideration for other people's time." He always believed Germans shared his values. After all, they always emphasized on efficiency, order and punctuality—at least, that's what he's read in some publications. Dr. Adolf von Schwartz was late by fifteen minutes when they agreed they'd meet at three. Price had taken a train up to Wuttemberg from Boblingen, which was exhausting, and he wanted nothing more than to get this meeting over with. 

The place he agreed to meet the neurotic physicist was a small and raggedy diner with bare tables and dusty floors. The counter was uncut, and the place was pretty much vacant. He ordered a cup of coffee, black and two sugars. He hated coffee. The tarnished bells at the entrance chimed as von Schwartz stumbled in, carrying a stack of disorganized files under his armpit. 

"Sorry, I'm late, General, I..." As he lifted his hands to straighten his glasses, the papers flew out of his grasp and onto the floor. Price watched with an unimpressed expression as the man scrambled to gather the documents, swearing under his breath in German. He glanced at his watch. 

"By fifteen minutes. What took you so long? I thought you Germans were punctual."

"I know, I know, I..." He gathered the last of the papers and plopped them onto the table, "I was, uh, working all night combing through new data, and I guess I...lost track of time." Price scoffed as he straightened himself. The general took in the other man's appearance. He was slim in the face, but he had a gut. His greying hair stuck out in different directions, and it appeared he hadn't shaven or bathed in days, if his filthy mustache or his musty scent was anything to go by. Price fought the urge to cringe when he had a glance of the man's yellowing teeth. 

"All this time you were late and you didn't even think to....never mind. Give it to me straight, doc. Why'd you call me here?"

"I called you here because I know of your...side-mission. I know you want to annex the Grey Territories." General Price mastered the art of schooling his expression long before he began basic training. His father always warned him against wearing your emotions on your sleeve. It was what helped him pass polygraphs, it helped him learn how to wield control over his comrades and subordinates, and it was what helped him get this far in his side operation. 

"This is what you dragged me over here for. This bullshit?"

The physicist leaned forward and dropped his voice. "I know exactly what you are looking for, General. And I know how to help you get it." He coyly pushed a document towards Price. Price studied the man's expression for a full beat before snatching the document up and skimming through it. His mouth parted, and he gaped. 

"Holy shit. What is this?"

"This, sir, is your holy grail."

\--------

**MAY 18, 2019 -- MANHATTAN, NEW YORK D.1**

Being a lab technician wasn't a particularly glamorous job, in spite of working at one of the most prestigious research institutions in the country. Nevertheless he loved it. His favorite part was recording the research data, as boring as it may seem. He felt as though he were somewhat engaging with the research. He wanted to work in the field applied physics, specifically with quantum technology. He didn't know exactly what kind of field he wanted to focus on just yet, but with each month of working here and each semester he spends studying in Columbia, he is almost at ease with narrowing it down.

His brother, Sam, was down in California, studying to be an attorney at Stanford—well, he actually wanted to become attorney general, but he wanted to at least start with working at at a really good firm. Dean worried his brother's standards were a little high, though. Stanford wasn't his first choice; Yale was, but he eventually decided he wanted to live closer to his girlfriend, Eileen, who was a social worker at a behavioral clinic. Dean sighed as he continued to clean up the laboratory Dr. Heinschfeldt had just finished working in. Heinschfeldt was one of the craziest scientists he's ever meant. The man was a brilliant physicist who transferred here from one of the most preeminent research universities in Germany, but he was so weird. He kept to himself, barely spoke to anyone, and when he did, he would either be grumbling something or manically rambling about portals and dragons and whatnot. He also would use some really weird outdated terms, like he was from a different time period. Dean shrugged it off and figured he was just one of those brilliant scientists who drove themselves mad being so invested in their research. He vaguely remembered a story about a mad science professor in Berkeley who ran around naked, screaming. 

Heinschfeldt's lab was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, the smell of chemicals was so pungent, Dean could almost feel his eyes burning, and some of his equipment was still turned on. Heinschfeldt rarely kept his lab or let anyone else in, claiming he was working on some "top secret project." As Dean wiped down a red substance that spilled on the floor, he noticed something strange: drops of a viscous yellow-green substance. He recognized a lot of the substances used in these labs, but this wasn't one of them. Dean thought about taking his gloves off and touching it or sniffing it. It was one of those rare moments when he thought of doing something stupid. As he crawled closer to the drops on the floor, they shifted into a deeper green like the color of his eyes. He frowned. 

'What the fuck?'

The door slammed open behind him. He quickly turned and saw Dr. Heinschfeldt charging towards him. 

"No, get away from that!" 

Next thing Dean knew, everything around him became white hot. He was falling, sinking into nothingness. A potent energy swarmed and twisted around him. He grew dizzier, his body weaker, as he fought to maintain some semblance of control. Colors swarmed around him. He could almost feel atoms changing positions, condensing and dispersing around him. He knew in the back of his mind he should be dead at this point. The frequent change in pressure around him should have worn his body out at this point. He was floating in space. Luminous spheres of plasma surrounded him, twinkling in his eye. The stars should've burned his eyes. He should've began to asphyxiate from the lack of oxygen.

Maybe he was dreaming. None of this made sense.

An invisible force propelled him into a vacuum of some sort. Everything around him became absolute nothingness.

\--------

**MARCH, 24 4522 X.D. -- VILLAGE OF LUCIFER, D.2**

The small girl picked at the scab on her toe as she watched the villagers pass her by, carrying baskets of vegetables and warm bread. Her body was consumed with hunger. She could barely sit straight or keep her eyes open. She thought about stealing a piece of bread from one of the marketers, but she knew what would happen if she got: she would be reported to the authorities, who would drag her by her bony arms into the magistrates' court who would give her one look-over and decided she was a street rat before throwing her into a jail where she would be chained into the wall and forced to starve to death. 

King Lucifer was a tyrant. He cared more about his appearances to the other kingdoms than he did about his subjects. Celeste was one of the many subjected to the consequences of his greed and superficiality. She had a home before he raised the property taxes in the village. Her parents drowned so deeply in debt that they were forced out of their home. For a short period of time, they stayed with her mother's sister until her Aunt Ruby went to the debt collectors' office and exposed her parents for their illegal practices.

So here she was, slumped against the stone wall, aching with hunger. She narrowly escaped the authorities while they were raiding her aunts' home. She had hidden under the floorboard, where she would hide whenever her parents' arguments grew vicious. Almost violent. Living in the streets was peaceful at first, but now she missed her parents. She missed coming home from the plantation to a bowl of hot soup with a cup of water and a slice of bread. 

A couple of the villagers passing by would glance down at her, men leering at her and women cringing at her like she was a pile of feces. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face between them to make herself smaller. The minute she squeezed her eyes shut, something strange happened: a white heat tore behind her eyes, ripping a hole into a mysterious part of her mind. In her mind's eye, a mysterious eruption of black energy hurtled towards the forefront of her mind, expanding rapidly until it was large enough to fit the form of a man. A strange, beautiful man. Cropped light brown hair, freckles covering almost every inch of skin, deformed legs and long curled lashes. His thick lips were parted slightly open to reveal pearly white buds. He wore strange garments, too—a shirt with unfamiliar patterns, something she believed was supposed to be an overcoat but she wasn't entirely sure, strangely-colored trousers, and spectacles she had never seen on anyone before. Beneath him, a bed of grass manifested. He was surrounded by a cluster of trees, and she could hear the water from a brook nearby. The foliage rustled softly as cool wind swept through the land, and she could hear cawing from the crows and buzzing from the various insects. She knew exactly where the strange man was.


	2. Forest of Lucifer/Dr. Heinschfeldt's Secret Project, P. I

**MARCH 24, 4522 X.D. -- UNKNOWN LOCATION, D.2**

A potent, brackish stench attacked his olfactory senses, making the back of his throat burn and his eyes water. Blades of grass prickled the backs of his neck and limbs as he stirred. He could hear the crack and rustle of leaves and branches, mixing in with caws and buzzing and fluttering. He blinked his eyes open and brought his fingers to rub the crust out of his eyes. The first thing he saw once his vision cleared was a tangle of multicolored leaves undulating above him. He surveyed the area around him, taking in the thick, smooth white tree trunks and boughs of flowers that ranged from bright blue to pale yellow to a brilliant red. He sat up, hissing at the throb of pain taking his upper body hostage. He stretched and rolled his neck around as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. The unfamiliar forest reeled around him. A wave of nausea ambushed him. He dry heaved into the grass, tasting the acid of bile in the back of his throat.

"Are you kidding me?"

He coughed and squeezed his eyes shut, his body rigid and his fingers sinking into the damp earth. His eyes prickling with tears, he sat back on his haunches and threw his head back, trying to catch his breath. A branch cracked somewhere in the distance. He bristled and sat still, listening for anymore noise or from where it had come from. He figured it was probably a squirrel as he shifted back to his hands and knees and started towards the trees. He stopped every few seconds to regain focus and stability. He drew in a deep and pushed forward. A branch or a stick crackled behind him. He swerved his head and turned around, staring through the mess of sticks and foliage. 

"Who's out there?!" he growled out. Dean may not have joined the military like his father, but he had trained in kickboxing and Krav Maga for several years. His dad wanted him to be a military man, join the Marines at the age of eighteen or some other department within the DOD. Dean stood in defensive position.

"Show yourself, you son of a bitch!"

He caught a flicker of movement in the brush. He watched as a small and scrawny red head crawled out through the leaves with a somewhat sheepish expression on her face. He swept the area again, looking to catch a sign of someone else lurking about. Once he had concluded that there was no one else there, he looked down at the girl, who was now brushing loose dirt off of her knees. She wore a dress that looked like it was from the 1800s or something. It was powder blue and tattered, and her chemise appeared to be a little too big, loosely hanging around her bust. Her collarbone was so sharp, and her frame was so frail, it appeared she hadn't eaten in days. Her eyes were worn, making her look at least a decade older. Her tangled hair hung like a mess of strings from her gaunt and pasty head. She looked up at him with eyes that looked frightful yet laced with fatigue. 

"Who are you?"

The girl looked down at her feet and timidly picked at the hem of her sleeve. Dean noticed a few scrapes and cuts on her forearm, probably from an accident from running or whatever.

'Did I time travel?'

"No, sir, you didn't time-travel," the girl mumbled, her voice almost loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean's eyes widened. Apparently, this girl could read his mind. Either that or he said his thought out loud.

'No sir, I...read your mind. I've been hearing your thoughts since I had a vision of you crashing through the sky and into Lucifer's Forest." Dean frowned and looked up. Through the tangle of branches and leaves, he could see slivers of the sky which was a chalky blue. He looked back down at the little girl.

"What do you mean you had a vision of me? Where am I? And don't bullshit me." The girl tensed a little and edged away from him. He could see the shine of tears swelling in her eyes. Dean almost felt bad. He didn't want to scare her; she was a little girl. He relaxed a little and sighed.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." 

She nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. Dean cringed, worried the girl would get dirt in her eyes. He had the urge to step towards her and hug her, but it was too soon, and for all he knew, she could be tricking him. Perhaps he was being too paranoid. 

"What is this place?"

The girl sniffled.

"You're in Lucifer's Forest right outside of the Kingdom of Lucifer. The village is not too far from here."

He frowned down at her and studied her as she dusted off her skirt. 

_'Kingdom? Lucifer?'_

"What year am I in?"

"You're in year 4522, XD."

He frowned. 

"XD? What the hell does that mean?"

The girl frowned at him confusedly but then proceeded to explain.

"Well, the 'X' symbol in our world means 'without,' as in 'without Dios, or without gods. Our world used to be ruled by gods until some foreigners invaded and began taking our resources. When our gods tried to fight them off, the foreigners used their technology and unnatural forces to decimate The Celestiumm, leaving our lands desolate and godless. When our King Lucifer came to power, he promised to replenish our resources so our people can eat again and have something to believe in, but his reign just made the rich richer and the poor poorer. That's what my parents taught me, anyway. We used to be happy..."

Her eyes started to water again. Dean sighed. 

"Sorry to hear that, kid. So...what's your...."

"It's Celeste. Celeste Middleton. And you're Dean. Dean Winchester."

Before Dean could ask her another question, the girl sneezed three times before looking up at him.

"You smell funny.

Dean frowned at her again.

"What?"

Before he knew it, he could feel himself getting dizzy again. He reached behind him and leaned against a tree trunk, squeezing his eyes shut. His blood started to boil. The girl—Celeste—rushed towards him and pinned his waist to the trunk before he realized he was slumping over. "Are you okay, sir?"

He shook his head. "I...I don't..what happened..." The forest swam before him, and his vision blurred. The last thing he heard before everything went black was Celeste yelling his name.

\-----

**MAY 20, 2019 -- MANHATTAN, NEW YORK D. 1**

_"Scheisse!"_ Dr. Sheldon Heinschfeldt swept the stack of papers off of his desk. He pushed his smudged, wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and scowled at the useless clutter. Almost three million possible permutations and combinations to replicate the portal, and he could not find it. How the technician managed to activate the portal and get sucked in, he didn't know. It's been two days since the bog—Dean Winchester, as he eventually learned—was thrusted into dimension II, the world that General Pierce mysteriously managed to open. A few days ago, Sheldon thought the worst that could happen would be that someone who'd make contact with one of his trial potions would have their skin off, or they would somehow inhale it and suffocate to death within a second. 

Sheldon huffed angrily, digging his gloved nails into his palms. He had chewed them to shreds within the past fifty-three hours and six minutes as he tried to figure out exactly how the _junge_ activated the portal. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He huffed and pulled it out. He flipped it open to check the caller ID. Pushing a sigh through his nostrils, he frowned as he pressed the connect button.

"Hello!" he gruffed in German. "What do you want?" He waited impatiently as the man at the other end of the line babbled on his broken German. Sheldon rolled his eyes. "Well, did you find anything else?" The man answered a negative and apologized profusely. "Then I absolutely do not have enough time to entertain your nonsense and shenanigans! _"_ He glanced down at his shut laptop next to the mess of crumpled of papers and huffed. The man started to ramble on some more until Sheldon eventually lost patience and hung up, slamming his flip phone shut with a curse. He sunk back onto his swivel chair and rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. He needed more coffee. He was probably going to send some doe-eyed intern to grab a cup for him. The coffee they made here was bland and pathetic, but it helped in its own way. Someone knocked on his door. He sighed exasperatedly.

'What now?'

"What do you want?"

The door yawned open to reveal a tall and elegant looking woman with her chestnut brown hair swept into a neat bun to reveal her delicate, heart-shaped face. She was gorgeous, actually. Quite fit. Her eyes were a stark pale green, and her eyebrows were thick and arched to a point of intensity. His eyes lingered on the woman's long, toned legs swathed down to the kneecap in beige wool material that hugged her slender thighs. He quirked a brow.

"Can I help you, miss?"

She shut the door behind her and smiled at him politely.

"Good evening, Dr. Heinschfeldt," she stepped over the piles of papers and crushed styrofoam cups to extend a hand. "My name is Bela Talbot. I am a legal representative of the Pierce Company. I am here because there is something I would like to discuss with you—"

"I am not working with you people again! You've screwed me over enough."

"Actually, we request that you return what you have stolen from us. Our research on the portal in the Grey Territories."

He scowled at her.

"Pardon me?!"

She folded herself into one of the stained, upholstered chairs in front of him and crossed one leg over the other. "When you decided to breach your contract with our firm, we graciously granted you our forgiveness and agreed that we would allow you to terminate your contract with us under the condition that you halted any research on the Grey Territories. Yet you stole our data and even went so far as to attempt to use our equipment on our grounds against our requests."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"We're giving you one last chance to right your wrongs before we take you to court, and we can assure you, doctor, it won't be pretty."

"Steal? From you? None of the research was yours to begin with it! It was MINE! I was the one who found that there was a portal! I was the one who worked nonstop, day and night, to help you build the components to the vessel! And you screwed me! Time and time again, you fucking brits! You greedy motherfuckers" 

Ms. Talbot chuckled as she brushed a smooth strand of hair from her forehead. 

"Doctor, you are brilliant and respected man. Our firm has enjoyed collaborating with you for so long. But if you don't yield in this game of chicken you decided to initiate with us, I will have no choice but to drag you to court and ruin you for everything have." With one last cocky smirk, Ms. Talbot stood in one fluid movement, smoothing her expensive skirt suit, and strutted out of his office.

"You have one week."

Heischfeldt scowled after her, his nails biting into his palms hard enough to create shallow crescent-shaped indents. Pierce had attempted to take credit for his research as long as he could remember. They've brushed him out of the narrative in almost every publication, and now they were going to drag him to court just so they could take credit for replicating the portal formula. He clenched his jaw and hissed a curse as he snatched his phone off of the desk and began dialing the number. 

"Güttentag," the old man said on the other line. Heischfeldt massaged the bridge of his nose. "Herr, we have a problem. Pierce paid me a visit."

Dr. von Schwartz sighed heavily.

"They threatened to take us court, I'm guessing? They sent their _Britin_ pitbull after you?"

"Da."

"Call the Russian. Have him take care of them."

Heischfeldt nodded. "Yes, Herr."

He hung up.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German translations:
> 
> Junge (noun) - young boy  
> Scheisse (expletive, vulgar): Shit! Crap!   
> Herr (noun) - sir  
> Britin (noun, feminine) - Brit
> 
> Disclaimer: Any fluent German speakers, feel free to correct my translations or let me know if I misused/misspelled a word. Thank you.


	3. Meeting Doctor Tran/Legend of the Twin Angel Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celeste takes Dean to the doctor, who reveals to him some shocking information about the dimension he landed in. He learns of the legend of the twin angel dragons.

**MARCH 25 4522, X.D. -- DR. TRAN'S OFFICE, D.2.**

Dean woke up on a hard mattress, wrapped in linen sheets that clung to his naked and sweat-slicked skin. He felt feverish, and his mouth ached with dryness. A slender dark-haired woman dabbed his forehead with a cool wet cloth, humming an unfamiliar tune to herself. When he first came to, Dean thought he had woken up from a fever dream where he transported into some fantasy/sci-fi universe, like Star Trek or whatever. Perhaps the spilt chemical in Heinschfeldt's office was laced with hallucinogens of some sort, and he passed out and had somehow ended up in the hospital. It wasn't until he saw bamboo walls and Celeste sitting on a rustic wooden chair at his bedside that he realized this shit was real. If he wasn't so hot and dizzy and drowsy, he'd be freaking out and racking his brain for some sort of plausible explanation. 

"Where am I?" he asked no one in particularly. His throat prickled as he spoke—or croaked, more so—and he coughed weakly. The brunette who was dabbing his head was now rubbing his chest in a manner that was intended to be soothing. He looked up at her, taking in her rectangular face, thick lips and big brown eyes. He frowned at her. 

"Who are you?"

She smiled at him softly, a vestige of pity in her eyes.

"My name is Tessa. I am Dr. Tran's assistant."

He turned to Celeste, who was picking at her sleeve again. She looked up at him and smiled meekly. "Dr. Tran is one of the best doctors in the village. He helps me sometimes when he's not out of town taking care of another patient." He looked back at Tessa, who was now handing him a glass of water and gently placing a hand on his shoulder to help him sit up. He took a couple of large gulps and moistened his lips as he allowed her to lower him onto the pillow. 

"What happened?" He felt his hole start to throb. He whimpered as he shifted beneath the stiff blanket. The sour smell that had been lingering around him grew more pervasive. Celeste sneezed and wiped her nose. Tessa pushed the water to his lips again. He grunted softly as he sat back up to take another sip. He started to sit up further but then winced as the throbbing in his anus grew. Tessa and Celeste were watching him with worried looks on their face. He moaned and held his hand up as the doctor's assistant grabbed his bicep. 

"I'm fine. Just...where are my clothes? I need to get back. Try to figure out how to get back to the forest and how to leave. My brother's probably worried about me."

"Why would your brother be in the forest?" Tessa asked him. Dean blearily looked up at her and shook his head.

"He's not in the forest; he's..." he weakly points towards the sky.

"The celestiumm? Are you from the celestiumm, sir?"

He frowned.

"What? No." He shook his head and looked back at Celeste, who was staring down at her bare feet. "Celle, tell her." Celeste looked up at Tessa through her lashes. "He travelled here from another village and got into an accident. He's an...author." He squinted at her and then at Tessa, who was nodding.

"Well, sir, you're not safe to travel back yet. You need to rest, at least until the doctor arrives. He's at the apothecary getting some potions for you down the street." Dean shook his head and looked down at his lap. He frowned at the tent on his lap. 

"What the f...why do I have a..."

Tessa frowned at him and glanced down at his lap. As she reached out to touch it, he swatted her hand away and glared at her. She stared at him in shock, holding her hand. "Sir, I am trying to help you." 

"By touchin' my junk? Are you outta your fuckin' mind, lady?"

As she started to babble, tears swelling in her eyes, he heard a door click open. He turned and saw a small, Asian kid walking into the room carrying a folder filled with documents and a straw basket of herbs and vials. "Good evening, sir. My name is Doctor Kevin Tran, and I will be helping you through your heat." He sat the basket on a table against the wall and approached the bed, clutching the files to his chest. 

"My what?"

The doctor looked up at him and frowned, as though he were baffled by the question. "You know, your heat? I assume you're aware that you're an omega, sir." Dean knit his brow, his confusion growing by the second. He looked down at Celeste again.

"I think he might have a concussion, sir," Tessa piped up. "When I tried to examine his engorged member, he attacked me and started using vulgar language towards me."

"Believe me, hon, if I wanted to attack you, you'd have broken bones by now!" Dean was aware of the snarl in his voice. He looked up at the doctor, who seemed taken aback. 

"Well, of course Miss Tessa, its normal for an omega to be aggressive during the first day of their cycle, especially with the intensity of sexual desire and pain they feel. Usually, however, the aggression of an omega wouldn't be so..." the doctor furrowed his brow, "much like an alpha's aggression. It wouldn't be so forceful. The threat of an omega is typically more benign, some biting and swatting, maybe some foul language here and there. This omega, however, is unnaturally violent." 

Dean rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Somebody, please tell me what the fuck is all this heat and omega talk about and what the hell is going on before I really get violent?"

The room went quiet for a minute. The doctor glanced at Tessa and gestured for her to leave the room. Tessa took a cautious glance at Dean before walking out of the room and quietly shutting the door behind her. Celeste looked pale, her eyes blown wide as she fidgeted in her seat. The doctor pulled a chair from a corner of the room and pulled it to Dean's bedside. He frowned.

"What did you say your name was, sir?"

"Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Winchester...I have never heard that surname in years. It's been thousands of years since I've last heard of a Winchester. Can you tell me where you were found and what happened?"

Dean sighed.

"I woke up in the forest. I was nauseous and dizzy. I ran into Celeste here, and she told me where I was, and I got dizzy and nauseous and I fainted again."

"When Celeste found you, she said you were wearing strange garments—trousers of an odd fabric, a colorful shirt, a white overcoat with misshapen pockets and spectacles of an unfamiliar material. Are you from...this world, Mr. Winchester?"

"No. I'm not. I'm from Manhattan, New York, year 2019. One minute I was in a research facility, cleaning up the lab of the world's untidiest physicist and next thing I know I was being sucked into outer space. Then I woke up here." Dean shrugged. 

"When you were unconscious in my office, Mr. Winchester, you were saying strange things, such as 'Heinschfeldt' and 'Wut-tem-berg' and 'dark vortex.' Can you explain what those mean?"

He sighed.

"A name, a city in my world, and something I experienced on my way here." Dr. Tran wore an indecipherable expression on his face. He looked between Celeste and Dean for a little bit before excusing himself and heading out of the room. Dean frowned at Celeste, who looked almost as confused as he was. 

"Can you still read my mind?"

She nodded.

"Yes. You're very confused and I see some glimpses of your memories, especially one of a green chemical spill."

"So, you're psychic or something?" Celeste shook her head. 

"I wasn't able to read minds or anything until I saw you. As I tried to locate where you were in the woods, I could hear your thoughts. I couldn't understand it though; it was a mess of weird words and strange colloquialisms. I think...I have a connection to you for whatever reason."

The door opened again and Dr. Tran entered, scrutinizing Dean's form. He looked down at a stack of papers in his hand and then back up at Dean. He sat back down in his chair and cleared his throat. "Mr. Winchester, have you ever heard the Legend of the Angel Dragons?"

Dean exhaled through his nostrils and laid back against his pillow.

"I remember that it's a story that emerged in Germania about these immortal dragons who ruled alongside these gods of the Seven Lands of the Cosmos or whatever, up until some monsters killed the gods and some demons took over and pushed the dragons out of the land. So the dragons seek out their special mate to give birth to a son to save the land from the demon and rebuild the gods' home. Something like that. It was a silly little fairy tale my mom told me when I was little. Why?"

Kevin nodded.

"Well, this Legend you speak of is real. This village is part of the Kingdom of Lucifer, which used to be one of the seven lands of the Second Cosmos before foreigners killed our gods. Lucifer, also known as the Mouth of Hell, spread false promises about rebuilding the lands with himself. Unfortunately, all he did was make the subjects miserable and only give riches to the few and the greedy. The dragons, who were once protectors of the Second Cosmos, were driven away and stripped of most of their powers. These dragons were the fiercest and most respected alphas in our dimension before Lucifer and his brothers came to power. There is still hope, however; as a way to ensure their power, the gods created a Special Mate for the dragons. This Special Mate was an omega destined to bear the savior in their wound, the warrior who would lead his army to battle with the Mouth of Hell and take back the lands for the Angel Dragons and the gods."

Dean watched the doctor wearily.

"Where are you going with this?"

"Thousands of years ago, Henry Winchester bore the mark of the Special Mate but then King Lucifer banished him into another dimension. He sealed the portal with dark magic to ensure that the prophecy would not be fulfilled and that he would keep his power in the Second Cosmos, yet _you_ did. When you were in the laboratory of this Heinschfeldt, somehow, he managed to break the seal on the portal, thus sending you here to fulfill your destiny as the dragon's Special Mate."

Dean scoffed.

"Okay, no. That's not possible. Where I come from, there's no such thing as magic. This is just a bunch of myths. There is a scientific explanation for what happened. Either somehow I ingested the chemical spilt in Heinschfeldt's office and am having some sort of chemical-induced hallucination, or I have fallen into a coma and am deeply entranced in some sort of fantastical lucid dream. But magic and prophecies and whatever have nothing to do with it!"

He knew in the back of his mind that he was being stubborn, but the whole concept of "magic" seemed outlandish. For centuries, since the beginnings of civilization, people have tried to understand the mysteries of the world, trying to explain it away with tales of gods and demons. Whenever these beliefs were challenged by scientists, or "heretics," shamans and other members of these religious communities would threaten torture and death to silence these dissenting voices. Dean was not one to subscribe to creationism or anything that involved the talk of gods and demons and a bunch of other mystical creatures. However, he couldn't find many plausible explanations for what had transpired in the past several uncountable hours. The doctor sat back in his chair and crossed his legs.

"If that's not the case, where did the mark on your bicep come from?" His brows furrowed with confusion, Dean craned his neck to look at his bicep. He noticed a red handprint stretching across his arm, leaving nothing but a frame of irritated boils that reminded him of thick threads of wool braided together to frame the edges of a glove and a hand-shaped mass of scar tissue. He ran his finger over the dry and lumpy skin. 

"You were claimed by a dragon. In your world, the claim may not exist, but the minute you broke the portal's seal and entered our universe..." Dr. Tran gestured towards Dean's shoulder. Dean looked to Celeste, who was still looking at her lap and then glanced back up at the doctor.

"And why was Celeste the one to see me? Why was she the one who found me?"

Dr. Tran shrugged nonchalantly as if he were talking about what he ate for lunch.

"Simple. She's the Dragon's Messenger."

**MAY 20 2019 -- UPTOWN MANHATTAN, NY D.1.**

Bela scrolled through her Blackberry for the twelfth time since she arrived at the restaurant. It was a clean place, the floors buffed to a shimmer and the walls a flawless white. The chairs and tables were neatly arranged in diagonal lines, and they were draped with fine silk tablecloth. Adorning each table was a centerpiece with a colorful array of roses. It gave the place a pop of color, even though it wasn't particularly significant. Her glass of iced water sat in front of her, half-empty, its rim smudged with red lipstick. She had ordered a glass of white not so long ago. A couple of other people were sat at tables, most of them dressed in their six-figure-priced work suits and polished dress shoes. The restaurant didn't have a particularly high Yelp review, but the location was decent. It wasn't too conspicuous, and it wasn't too far from her office nor was it too close. The CEO of the Pierce Company along with two of his associates were to meet her at the restaurant to discuss her most-likely unsuccessful meeting with the infamous Dr. Heinschfeldt. She heard the entrance doors click open, followed by the telltale sounds of heavy loafers slapping against the carpet as Arthur Ketch approached her along with his two associates, Benny Lafitte and Antonia Bevell. The three took their seats, prompting Bela to lower her Blackberry and rise to shake Price's hand.

"Mr. Ketch, its a pleasure meeting with you again."

He smiled at her as they both sat down.

"Likewise, Ms. Talbot. So, how did your meeting with Mr. Heinschfeldt go?"

She sighed heavily as she lifted her glass of water to her lips.

"Well, I passed along your message. And, of course, he called us 'fucking greedy Brits' and that it was his research." Arthur snorted and sat back in his seat.

"Of course the man would say that. He's mad. Irrational. But I can assure you, we will get that formula from him one way or another." The waiter approached them and set the white wine in front of Bela before turning to ask Ketch what he wanted. Antonia looked up at Bela, a grimace playing on her glossed lips. 

"Ms Talbot," she said with a sneer as soon as the waiter puttered off, "with all due respect, I don't believe you got our point across as effectively as you could've." Bela drew in a measured breath through her nostrils as she lifted her eyes to meet Toni's. 

"How ever do you mean, Ms. Bevell?"

"I can't exactly put my finger on it, but something tells me that Dr. Heinschfeldt won't yield. I have a feeling that he has something up his sleeve."

"Ms. Bevell, I passed on your message as requested, and I gave him a week as you requested. I also made sure to do my homework to make sure I had enough leverage to back him into a corner."

"Perhaps, but perhaps you weren't as thorough in your research as you so confidently claim." Bela's grin tightened. 

"Would you like to check my homework, Ms. Bevell? Because I will be more than happy to—"

Arthur held up a hand to placate them both.

"Enough, ladies. Ms. Bevell, if you are so confident that Dr. Heinschfeldt might have a plan in the works, I will be more than willing to hire a private investigator. Someone who will be able to keep tabs on him. Sound like a plan?" He looked over at Bevell, who seemed somewhat relieved. Bela watched the woman closely as she took a pull from her iced water. The waiter returned with a tray full of drinks and began setting them on the table.

"Great," Arthur clapped his large hands together with his lips pulled to his teeth, "now that that's settled, let us enjoy our lunch and draw out our game plan. Hmm?"


End file.
